Sibling Rivalry
by GoddessofSnark
Summary: You know kid, I'm jealous of you." He was here first, he was the petulant five year old. "You've got a great mom, and you've got the world at your feet." House stops by the NICU after Joy to the World. Sappy fluff.


A/N: Sap? Me? You know the cold and the christmas spirit are getting to me, because I wrote this. Be warned, it's sap and fluff overload, to the point where it started to make me gag while writing it.  


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This was an area of the hospital that was rather unfamiliar to him. Sure, he knew where it was, and knew some of the doctors and nurses, but almost all in the sense of "So and so from the NICU." He'd been in there a few times, all because of patients, but this was the first time that he wasn't checking up on a strange case. No, everything that was wrong with this child had already been diagnosed and was being treated.

He told himself that he was just doing this because it was his boss's kid, and that he was obviously a far superior doctor to even those that specialized in the care of infants-so his coming down was merely to make sure that the idiots there weren't about to kill the kid with their ineptitude. It was easier than trying to explain to his more rational mind why he was here.

It was rather empty, surprisingly. The few nurses he saw went scattering when he glared, and he made his way in towards where the rows upon rows of infants in plasticine cribs lay. He thought for sure that new parents would be spending the holidays with their newfound bundles of joy-and newfound causes of debt. Both because of the medical bills, and because they'd all become leeches on society for the next eighteen years.

He found the crib with the label-still under his now-dead patient's name. It would take at least six months for the legalities to get sorted out. He'd looked up what was required-the kid would go and be a foster child for the next few months, with regular home visits to prove that yes, Cuddy was capable of handling a child, and no, the child was not going to suffer. Provided she passed that-and he had no doubt she would-then the option of adoption would come onto the table, and then it would be more legalities and paperwork to be filled out, before finally the kid would be able to legally pick up the last name of "Cuddy". Right now it was there as "Baby Girl Patterson", seeing as Natalie had died before naming the child, and none of the grandparents had wanted anything to do with the child.

But then again, the child wouldn't start to recognize a name-any name, until it was a good few months old. Which gave them plenty of time to stop calling it "baby girl" and settle on something much more suitable. He'd jokingly suggested "Surprise", only to be met by a half-hearted death glare from Cuddy. He just hoped that Cuddy was sensible enough to avoid any of those holiday-themed names. Then again, Dreidel Cuddy wasn't exactly a great name. Better than "Miracle" or "Holly" or something equally as cheesy. At least Dreidel was somewhat unique. He trusted Cuddy to at least be sensible when naming her child.

He looked at the tiny infant, underneath the bright lights meant to both warm the infant and prevent the onset of jaundice, so common in the little tiny babes. "Should I have brought frankincense or myrrh?"He asked the empty room. Well, not empty, it was full of children, who reacted only to a voice. They were still far too young to process what a question was, much less what the items he asked about were. "Course not, that would imply that I was a wise man. And while I may be smart, there's a difference between intelligence and wisdom."

He looked down at the squirming child, reaching for whoever was talking to it, a faint smile playing upon his lips. It was a healthy weight, and aside from a few concerns with its breathing-far more likely from the fact that it had been living in a derelict house under the care of two bums for the past few days than from any birth defects-it was healthy. But still, this was Cuddy's child, he wouldn't trust the hacks down here to miss something glaring with the child. "You-" He said to the child, as he grabbed the chart from the foot of the crib, "-Are going to have a very good life."

He skimmed over what had already been written, identifying what Cuddy herself had noted, and what the various doctors and nurses of the department had as well. "You're going to grow up with a mom that loves you to death, and an entire staff of doctors willing to look over you if she so much as clicks her heels. Because we all value our jobs that much. But not me-I don't think she'd trust me alone within five feet of you. But she doesn't know I'm here now, and that will be our little secret." He winked at the baby, as though it knew that it could understand him.

"But you're going to hear a lot about me, and I'm telling you now to not believe all of it. Because if your mom's going to be talking about me, I can guarantee it's not going to be in a good light. Odds are it's going to be talking about what an ass I am, and how much stress I put on her that she really doesn't need. Don't believe it. I'm a nice guy. If I'm forced to buy you gifts-which I have no doubt I will be, because it's Cuddy, and she'll try her damndest to get Wilson, and me, and the other heads to spoil you rotten-I'll make sure to buy you all the cool annoying ones just to piss her off." He noted the temperature, and the blood pressure, and heart rate, checking all of them again himself.

"You know, I'm jealous of you. You get a second chance with life. Sure, your real mom's dead, and your real dad is a sixteen year old kid who wouldn't know what to do with a child if he majored in parenting, but you get Cuddy. You get to grow up calling a woman who wanted you more than anything else mom. You get to grow up never having to worry about money-your mom is loaded by the way, or about what you want to do with life, because with Cuddy as a mom, she'll let you do anything you want, even if you want to dye your hair green and become a rock star. And don't doubt that if I'm ever forced to watch you that I'll teach you how to play guitar. And send you back home to mommy with the lifelong dream of being on MTV. She'll hate me for it, but it'll stop me from babysitting ever again, I'm sure.

But you get to grow up with unconditional love, without having to worry about an asshole dad to step in and be a jerk. You get to grow up with the entire world before you, able to grow up and do whatever you want, able to be whatever you want to be. You don't ever have to worry about being forced into doing something you don't want to do-like become something respectable if you don't want to. I'm sure you will though, because you're going to be Cuddy's child, and you're probably going to be in Chapin til you're old enough to get into one of the other fancy prep schools around here, and then probably on to Princeton. Because knowing Cuddy, she's going to raise you to be the same sort of willing overachiever-not because she wants you to be one, but because it can't help but rub off on you."

The baby hadn't taken it's eyes off of him the entire time. Blue eyes, bright ones. The father had blue eyes, which is where he supposed the kid got them from. Although it was hard to see the eyes through how scrunched him the child's face was-whoever said that babies were beautiful lied-they were quite obviously blue. "You know, you're probably not even going to find out you're adopted until you're older. Cuddy won't let anything step in to ruin the idea of finally having a kid. You look like you can pass off as hers, anyway. Pale eyes, dark hair." He shined his penlight across both pupils, noting that even though the stimulus check wasn't the most effective on something that couldn't do much more than drool all over itself, the kid was still normally reactive for a newborn.

"Don't let anyone tell you you're not good enough, because you've got a mom who will make sure that no matter what, you're good enough. I'm not lying when I say I'm jealous of you either. All the chances in the world are before you right now. You can grow up and be anything at all, with no one stopping you. And you get to be the focus of Cuddy's attention. I'm now not the only petulant five year old she has to keep an eye on. Call it sibling rivalry. But don't even start on the Oedipus Complex. I won't let you go there-although like I said, don't let me, or Wilson, or anyone tell you no, even if it spoils you rotten. You get the coolest uncles and aunts on the planet, seeing as I'm willing to bet Cuddy won't let you out of her sight for more than five minutes at a time, which means you're going to be spending a lot of time here. Not _here_ hopefully, but in this hospital. She's allowed to break the rules, she's the boss."

He jotted down that the kid was still normal, that nothing had changed, although the breathing seemed a lot less labored, and it wasn't crying. He looked at the child one last time, and couldn't help but reach out a finger when it reached for him. The smile was completely uncontrable when a tiny hand clasped around his finger, and refused to let go. "Yeah, it's sibling rivalry, you're going to get all of mom's attention, when I'm the older, spoiled one who's always getting in trouble. Stealing away all of Cuddy's free time so I'll feel bad when I get the hospital in another lawsuit." He stuck the chart back in the foot of the crib, and walked out, glaring at anyone who dared to cross his path.


End file.
